


girls like girls (better than boys do)

by ImSoSupernova



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSoSupernova/pseuds/ImSoSupernova
Summary: Everything about this evening feels a bit unreal, with the pinky-orangeness of the sky and the pale glow of the pool lights, the warm, light summer air, and most of all Vilde’s cheek against her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo and chlorine, her face barely inches from Noora’s. It’s almost midsummer, and Noora can feel it in the air, a kind of charge that makes it feel like anything is possible.And so when Vilde lifts her head slightly to look at Noora, her face barely inches from Noora’s, she doesn’t feel nervous, or hesitate. She leans in to close the distance between them.





	girls like girls (better than boys do)

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! long time no see!! this fic was written for the hayley kiyoko skam fic challenge and is inspired by the music video for the song girls like girls! i hope you enjoy!

_ Noora’s legs work in time with her lungs as she tries to slow her breath;  in, pedal, out, pedal, in, pedal pedal… _

_ The world around her is spinning, swooping in and out from underneath her legs, so much that it’s almost a miracle she’s still on her bike. The bruise above her eye is softly throbbing, and her head is pounding, and everything around her feels a bit too bright, clear, vivid, like she’s floating off the ground, a bit outside of herself, like she’s no longer herself, but someone else she’s just watching very closely. Unreal. Everything about her, about this day, about this life feels unreal. _

 

Vilde opens the door to her aunt’s house before Noora even has a chance to ring the doorbell and immediately pulls her into a hug, and as usual, Noora’s heart jumps when she sees her. Vilde’s skin is warm, like she’s been lying in the sun, and everything about her, from her striped t-shirt to her cuffed jean shorts, to her pale blonde hair pulled carelessly back in a ponytail seems to glow in the early morning light. And she’s smiling at Noora like she’s her most favorite person in the world, and Vilde grins back, and everything about the moment is perfect.

“Vilde?” another voice calls from inside the house, and the feeling’s broken as Noora’s heart sinks.  _ He’s here… _

_ He  _ appears at the door next to Vilde and wraps his arm around her shoulders, and every part of Noora that just a second ago was light and warm and happy now feels tense, cold, frustrated. But Vilde’s still smiling, so she forces herself to smile back again and say, “Hey, William.”

She tries to ignore the lit end of the cigarette he’s smoking, so dangerously close to the exposed, vulnerable skin of Vilde’s upper arm, tries not to notice the dark shadow of stubble that dots his cheeks, how she can’t help but be reminded how much older than her she is, 18 to her and Vilde’s 15, and how small Vilde looks under his arm. And she can’t help but feel sick, just a little.

William grins and reaches out to give her a good-natured fist bump as a greeting, but there’s something dark behind his eyes as he pulls Vilde closer to his chest, a look that Noora can’t quite place. Or maybe she’s just imagining things.

The three of them gather in Vilde’s kitchen, the two girls sitting on the counter near the open window, William lurking off to the side, watching them. Vilde holds out a cigarette and giggles as he lights it for her. She takes a drag and offers it to Noora, who refuses with a wave of her hand, trying not to focus too much on Vilde’s lips, pale glossy pink, strands of white smoke curling between. She tries not to think about what she’d rather Vilde’s lips be doing instead.

Vilde never used to smoke, and even now she only does so when she’s with William.  _ To look cool around the older boy. _ Noora hates it. 

Now, he lounges against the counter, fingers idly tracing patterns on Vilde’s thigh. “You sure you don’t want to smoke?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Noora forces a smile and shakes her head. 

“Come on.” Vilde presses her shoulder against Noora’s teasingly. “It’s fun! It makes you feel good.”

The feeling of Vilde’s hair against her cheek makes Noora dizzy. She reaches out her hand, and feels Vilde’s fingers brush against hers as she hands her the cigarette. For a moment, her hand lingers, touching Noora’s just a little longer than would be natural. And then it’s gone, just the cigarette remaining, and Noora’s left wondering if she was just imagining things. She feels both William and Vilde’s eyes on her as she tentatively takes a drag, and she’s not sure who makes her more nervous. 

The smoke is bitter in her mouth and burns in her lungs, and Noora coughs involuntarily, eyes streaming a little. She can hear both of them laughing, and feels her cheeks burn. “Hey,” Vilde says, “let me help you.” She takes the cigarette from Noora’s fingers with one hand and gently takes hold of her chin with the other. Noora’s heart races at her touch, and all she can do is sit still, rapt, as Vilde gently parts her lips with her thumb, and places the cigarette between them. “Here...now inhale,” she orders. She’s moved so close that their legs are brushing together. It’s really a miracle that Noora can even breath at all. 

Vilde’s hair brushes against her face as she whispers, “Hold, two, three, now exhale!” Noora follows her commands like she’s a puppet, gently blowing the smoke out into Vilde’s face, watching close her eyes and inhale slowly. The smoke tastes different this time, sweeter, earthier, or maybe it’s just the smell of Vilde’s shampoo. Noora feels dizzy, light, giddy. Their faces are so close together as Vilde reaches up to place the cigarette back in Noora’s mouth…

William clears his throat loudly, and the two girls jump apart. “What’s up?” Vilde asks. Her sweet, simpering smile is back as she scoots back over to him, and Noora feels sick again. 

“I’m bored,” he whines. “Let’s go swimming or something. I wanna see you in that new swimsuit.”  
“Okay, Willy,” Vilde giggles. “Come on, Noora. Let’s go change.”

 

In many ways, it’s exactly like all the other summer days she’s spent at Vilde’s place, with William and the smoking and the spare, chance moments she catches alone with Vilde when William’s in the bathroom or getting a beer or something. The moments she lives for. The moments that keep her coming back, time and time again, no matter how disgusted William makes her feel. But today feels different as well. These little moments feel more charged, the time alone with Vilde a little brighter, more intense, the times with William more strained, more uncomfortable, like the air before a storm. Like something’s coming.

Noora and Vilde change in Vilde’s room as usual, Noora, facing the door, Vilde, facing the window. There’s a mirror in the corner of Vilde’s room. Noora can see Vilde changing in it out of the corner of her eye, topless and bare-backed, and she feels that energy, even stronger than before. Like there’s some kind of pull between them, some kind of magnetic force that’s pushing the two of them together. Before she can help herself, she glances over her shoulder at her friend, marvelling at her bareness, at how vulnerable and beautiful she is, and how revolting the idea of William’s hands on her is.

When Noora sneaks a second glance, she finds herself meeting Vilde’s eyes, briefly, and then they both glance away quickly. Or maybe it’s just her eyes playing tricks on her, wishful thinking.

 

William grins when he sees the two of them walk out of Vilde’s bedroom, a shark’s smile, all glinting eyes and glittering teeth that make Noora want to wrap her towel around herself and Vilde and shield them from his gaze as Vilde giggles and blushes and poses. It’s a relief to get in the pool, to have both their bodies sheltered by water and pool walls. 

At first, it’s just her and Vilde, playing Marco Polo and chasing each other around the pool, grabbing onto each other’s hands and shoulders and ankles and pulling each other around. Vilde tries to give Noora a piggy-back ride, and the feeling of her arms and hands against Noora’s thighs as she zooms steadily around the pool are the most amazing she’s ever felt. When she gets tired, Noora offers to return the favor, and even though she’s stumbling she feels like she’s floating around the pool, with Vilde’s damp hair brushing against her shoulder and cheeks and her laugh in Noora’s ears. 

And then there’s a splash and Noora feels Vilde let go and swim over to where William’s just cannonballed into a pool. He lifts her onto his shoulders like she’s nothing, and the two of them go speeding off, leaving Noora forgotten and treading water. Until she meets his eyes the next time he rounds the corner of the pool, and she sees something in them, something dark and grim, like before. It makes her shiver.

 

Later when they’re tired of swimming lying on the patio, sunning themselves, William announces that he’s invited a few friends over to Vilde’s house and they have about two hours to get ready for the party. His voice is muffled slightly, curving around the lit cigarette he’s just stuck into his mouth. Noora shudders inwardly at the idea of having to spend the evening with his friends, anywhere from five to eight more Williams filling up Vilde’s living room, getting smoke and cigarette ash all over her couches and chairs, swigging bitter drinks into bitterer mouths and lips. Her heart sinks. Then she realizes Vilde’s frowning too. “You invited friends?” she murmurs, quiet enough that Noora knows she’s not meant to hear, but loud enough that she can’t help it.

“Yeah, why?” William rolls on his side to look at her.

“I don’t know.” Vilde shrugs. “I guess--I was hoping it could just be us, you know?”

William sighs and reaches over to brush Vilde’s hair out of her face. Noora catches a dangerous edge to his movements even before he speaks. “That’s what I was hoping too,” he mutters. His hand moves over to grip Vilde’s chin. “But then you invited  _ her  _ over.”

Noora realizes who he’s talking about, and feels a slow burn begin in the pit of her stomach.

Vilde frowns even more deeply. “But she’s my  _ friend.  _ My  _ best friend. _ ”

“And I’m inviting  _ my  _ best friends.” William’s voice grows darker, louder. “She’s  _ always  _ here, even when  _ I  _ want to spend some alone time with you, even when I thought  _ we  _  had plans! But when  _ I  _ invite my friends over  _ once,  _ I guess that’s a problem? Maybe you should think about someone besides yourself for once.”

“William--” Vilde reaches over to touch his face, but he rolls away and stands up. 

“If you need me, I’ll be getting ready for  _ our  _ party.” 

Noora hears the screen door slam shut behind him. She turns to meet Vilde’s eyes. The scared, wounded look in them breaks her heart. “Come here,” Noora murmurs, patting the spot beside her. Vilde obliges slowly, glancing repeatedly at the door. He doesn’t reappear.

The two girls lie in silence for a few minutes. Then she hears Vilde whisper. 

“Promise me you won’t leave?” 

“Of course,” Noora whispers back without even thinking. “I’m not going to leave you with-- _ them. _ ”

Vilde beams, and Noora feels her heart lift. Then it sinks again as her smile fades and Vilde whispers, “I don’t always understand what he’s thinking, but he loves me, you know? He does love me.”  
It sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself. Noora doesn’t say anything more.

 

Later, Noora and Vilde find themselves in the bathroom, quietly giving each other manicures and trying to tune out the faint clatters and thuds of William as he prepares for the party. The nail polish is pale gold and glittery, and as she gently paints it on Vilde’s nails, she notices once again how  _ young  _ Vilde is, how small, trusting, naive,  _ delicate.  _ How easily broken she could be. And how afraid Noora is that William will break her. But they’re together and William’s outside, doing who-knows-what, and so Noora pushes those thoughts away and focuses on the now, the safe little bubble they’ve created in this bathroom.

“Do I look ready?” Vilde asks, brushing her hair to one side, and then the other.

“Yeah,” Noora whispers. Something’s grown in her throat in the past few hours, and it sits heavily there now. “You look beautiful.”  
Vilde beams at her. “Thank you! You look--” she clears her throat. “You look beautiful too, Noora. You just need _one_ thing--”

She reaches into her makeup bag and pulls out a small tube of pale pink lip gloss. Noora shakes her head. “Vilde, you know how I feel about makeup--”

“Just this once!” Vilde pleads. “Please, you’d look so good! I’ll even do it  _ for  _ you!”

She’s already unscrewing the cap, and Noora finds herself completely unable to say no, or even speak at all, as she lets herself be sat on the counter, mouth open just slightly, completely still as Vilde stands between her legs and gently takes her chin in her hand. Her touch is feather light, tongue hanging slightly out of her mouth in concentration as she applies the gloss. Her face is so close to Noora’s that Noora can feel her breath against her cheek. She wants nothing more than to wrap her legs around her and bring her closer.

After a few moments, Vilde sits back and smiles at Noora. “You look good enough to kiss,” she whispers.

And Noora finds herself smiling breathlessly back. The lip gloss smells and tastes faintly like strawberries. It’s a good flavor. She wonders if Vilde enjoys it too.

 

William’s friends arrive around 16:00, laughing and shouting and bringing packs of booze and cigarettes. They fill the air with smoke and lights and blaring music, all of them swirling around Noora and blending into each other until she can barely distinguish their faces from the others. She sits in a corner next to Vilde and tries to ignore the pounding of the music and the pounding of her hand and the advances of the older guys milling around her, offering her beer and cigarettes until her neck and cheeks grow sore from faking smiles and shaking her head. 

The only thing that surprises her about the evening is that Vilde stays with her for most of it, squeezing next to her on the padded armchair and resting her head against her shoulder. She talks and laughs with the guys sometimes and nudges Noora’s shoulder whenever a guy comes over to talk to her, but as the evening goes on she seems to shrink closer into herself, closer to Noora and away from the noise and chaos and blur around them.

William spends most of the evening with his friends too, downing drinks and wrestling playfully with the other guys, and he seems as loud and upbeat as the rest of them. But she can feel his eyes on them, burning their way into her skin until Noora can’t help but shiver.

At one point, he comes over to try and get Vilde to dance with him, and to Noora’s surprise, she protests loudly, claiming that she’s tired from the swimming and may have gotten too much sun. But William is larger and manages to pull her up, pressing her against his body and grinding his hips against hers in a way that makes Noora wince. Vilde’s laughing as she pulls away from him and sits back down, but her eyes are filled with the relief that matches how Noora feels when William stalks away.

“Are you okay?” Noora finds herself asking.

Vilde smiles. “Of course! He’s just being a dumb teenage boy. You know how they are.”

Noora forces herself to smile and laugh with her. But she still feels William’s eyes on her, all evening long.

 

By 18:00 the party’s died down. Most of the guys head off to another party they’ve been invited to, and suddenly the house is quiet, just the three again. William’s passed out on the couch, snoring softly, and Vilde’s moved to sit outside, dangling her legs in the pool. Something inside Noora warns her to tread lightly and make as little noise as possible as she gently unlatches the screen door and slips outside.

The pool lights are on, a warm, pale flickering glow that illuminates Vilde’s face beautifully as Noora quietly sits down next to her. The evening is warm, and the water of the pool feels silky and smooth against her bare legs. Vilde doesn’t say anything, but Noora feels her arm brush against hers as she scoots closer and gently rests her head on Noora’s shoulder.

Everything about this evening feels a bit unreal, with the pinky-orangeness of the sky and the pale glow of the pool lights, the warm, light summer air, and most of all Vilde’s cheek against her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo and chlorine, her face barely inches from Noora’s. It’s almost midsummer, and Noora can feel it in the air, a kind of charge that makes it feel like anything is possible.

_ And so when Vilde lifts her head slightly to look at Noora, her face barely inches from Noora’s, she doesn’t feel nervous, or hesitate. She leans in to close the distance between them. _

_ And then her world turns upside down. _

Noora doesn’t know how it happens. One moment, her lips are brushing against Vilde’s, and then suddenly she’s on the ground, her head pounding and a ringing in her ears so loud that she can barely hear William’s voice above it all--

_ “Fucking knew it--saw how you looked at her--fucking filthy--cheating--whore--DYKE--” _

And her vision clears enough to see Vilde’s face, shocked and terrified and tearing up, and something inside Noora snaps. And suddenly her hand is throbbing and William is on the ground at her feet and when she looks into his eyes she remembers  _ everything, all the sly looks at Vilde, up and down for weeks, even though he was three years older than her,  even when he was dating someone else, and the way he still looks at her, eyes dark, hungry, controlling, and anger in his face whenever he sees Noora, and fear too, the fear that she’ll get between them, matched only by her own fear that he knew how she felt about Vilde all along-- _

Noora’s fists are both bloody and the ringing in her ears has grown louder, drowning everything out except for the thuds as she lands every punch she aims at William on the ground, striking at his face, his stomach, his ribs, until something breaks through the ringing and she hears Vilde screech, loud and clear,

“Noora  _ STOP!!” _

and feels her hands on her arms, pulling her away, and then Vilde’s arms around her, pulling her close, and her lips pressing fiercely, clumsily against Noora’s, drinking Noora in like she’s oxygen and Vilde’s been suffocating her whole life, and through her kisses she’s whispering over and over again, _ are you okay, are you okay, are you okay  _ and even though Noora’s head is still throbbing and her knuckles are bloody and aching, she doesn’t think she’s ever felt more okay.

 

_ Noora’s legs work faster and faster and her breath comes out in ragged gasps as she remembers-- _

_ She remembers William’s cruelty, the way he always pushed Vilde harder, closer to him and away from everyone else, the hatred in his eyes, only slightly masked whenever he saw Noora, the twisted anger on his face when he saw the two of them together, the feeling of his skin against her fists, over and over again, breaking and splitting into colorful bruises-- _

_ She remembers Vilde, her eyes soft and caring, her touch always the gentlest thing Noora’s ever felt, teaching her to smoke, painting her nails, applying lip gloss, brushing the blood away from her face and asking her if she’s okay-- _

_ She remembers Vilde’s lips against, desperate but sure, like a homecoming, like something that was always meant to be, like a world of new possibilities, a future-- _

_ Noora remembers, and she smiles. _

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @lesbiennemanon!


End file.
